Chapter 31
CASH
Rossi’s boardroom had a view that would have impressed me if I gave a damn about views right now.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Tiber.
A massive conference table polished to within an inch of its life and meant to intimidate.
Everything designed to remind visitors that they were in the presence of old European money and older European power.
I was a Bancroft. It was going to take a lot more than a nice fucking table and a sweet view to intimidate me. I sat at one end of the table with my phone pressed to my ear, barely registering any of it.
“Say that again,” I said.
My legal counsel back in New York—Sandra, the best contracts attorney we had—didn’t hesitate. “Rossi is hemorrhaging money. Has been for at least three years. Maybe longer. I just got the report back from our investigator. I’m still reviewing it. It’s extensive and alarming.”
I leaned back in the obscenely expensive chair. “How bad?”
“Bad enough that he’s taking loans against assets he doesn’t fully own.
Bad enough that he’s months behind on payments to multiple creditors.
” I heard papers rustling on her end. “We pulled everything we could legally access. The pattern is clear. He’s not exiting this contract because he wants to hurt the Bancroft name.
He’s exiting because he can’t afford to do business with it.
In a nutshell, we’re out of his league. Way out. ”
“His wife,” I said. “Does she have money? Does she come from money?”
I needed to make sure I had all the facts. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Angelica swooped in to save her husband along with her reputation. People at the top liked it way too much to allow themselves to fall. They were prone to do things that they might not normally do, like seduce rich men.
Was that Angelica’s plan? Was that why she wanted a private meeting with me?
Hell no. Not even with a ten-foot pole. I knew women like that and there was less than zero chance I would allow myself to get sucked into that shitshow.
“His wife doesn’t have money,” Sandra said.
“In fact, she’s part of the problem. Angelica Rossi has a documented spending problem.
But that’s not the whole story. Federico has made some questionable investments.
A failed hotel venture in Sardinia. A tech startup that imploded.
He’s been trying to use the Bancroft association to shore up his reputation, attract new investors.
Dropping the Bancroft name like he’s BFFs with all of you. ”
“And when that didn’t work?”
“He decided to cut and run before we could discover the extent of his financial problems.” Sandra paused.
“Cash, if you push this deal through, we could be tied to his mess when it all comes crashing down. And it will come crashing down. It might be a week or a year, but the house of cards will come down and he’s going to be taking a lot of people with him.
I’m not sure if anyone else knows they’re sitting on a disaster. ”
Cleo had been right. She had figured it out in a bathroom conversation with a bitter socialite while I’d been sitting at a table making small talk. She’d seen what I’d missed. Rossi wasn’t playing power games. He was drowning.
“Send me everything,” I said. “I want the full breakdown.”
“Already in your inbox. And, Cash?”
“Yeah?”
“Your father isn’t going to like this.”
I almost laughed. “My father doesn’t like a lot of things I do lately. What else is new?”
She chuckled. “Good luck.”
She hung up just as the boardroom doors opened.
Rossi walked in flanked by four board members—two men, two women, all of them wearing expensive suits and expressions meant to put me on the defensive.
Rossi himself looked composed, but I could see the tension around his eyes. The slight tightness in his jaw.
He knew why I was here. And he thought bringing a team would make him more powerful. Give him the cards. Silly man. He’d never met a Bancroft like me.
“Bancroft.” He extended his hand as he approached. “Thank you for making time to meet.”
I stood and shook his hand. Professional. Firm. Gave nothing away. “Of course.”
“Please, sit.” He gestured magnanimously, like this was his show to run. “I wanted to thank you again for your efforts at the fundraiser. It was quite the success.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“And your fiancée was absolutely charming,” he said with what had to be the fakest smile. All teeth and bared gums. “Quite the unexpected choice but charming nonetheless.”
Every muscle in my body went tight. I didn’t like him talking about Cleo. Didn’t like the way he said unexpected choice like she was some kind of curiosity I’d brought along for entertainment. Didn’t like any of it. Honestly, I didn’t like him and that just soured everything else.
But I kept my expression neutral. “I’ll pass along the compliment.”
“Please do.” He settled into his chair at the head of the table. His board members arranged themselves on either side. “Now, shall we discuss the future of our partnership?”
“I’d like to speak with you privately,” I said.
Rossi’s smile sharpened. “I prefer to have my advisors present for all business discussions.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Is there a problem?”
I looked at him steadily. Let the silence stretch until one of the board members shifted uncomfortably. Then I leaned back in my chair and made myself comfortable. “Fine,” I said. “I wanted to discuss exit clauses to the contract due to your financial status, and the relevant consequences.”
The room went dead silent. Rossi’s face went through several expressions in rapid succession.
Confusion, realization, fury. He recovered quickly but not quickly enough.
I’d already seen it. He had dropped the mask and I knew everything Sandra just told me was true.
Not that I didn’t believe her, but sometimes things could get misinterpreted.
Not this time.
“I’m sorry?” His voice was dangerously quiet.
“Your financial status.” I kept my tone conversational. “We’ve done our due diligence. It’s quite clear that you can’t afford to maintain this partnership. I wanted to discuss a clean exit before things get complicated.”
One of the board members inhaled sharply. The others were staring at Rossi like they’d never seen him before. Or maybe like they were seeing him clearly for the first time.
Did they know their fearless leader was the captain of a sinking ship?
Rossi stood slowly. “Gentlemen. Ladies. Please excuse us.”
“Federico—” the silver-haired woman started.
“Now.”
They filed out. Every single one of them looked at me like I’d just detonated a bomb in the middle of the boardroom. Maybe I had. Oops.
As soon as the door closed, Rossi whirled on me.
“How dare you?” His composure had cracked completely. “How dare you come into my office and humiliate me in front of my board?”
“I gave you the option of privacy,” I said mildly. “You declined.”
He was pacing, hands clenched at his sides. “Do you enjoy this? These little power plays? Showing up with that woman on your arm, making a spectacle of my party.”
“Careful,” I said quietly.
“Your fiancée.” He practically spat the word. “Please. My team looked into her. She’s nobody. A personal assistant who conveniently works for your brother’s girlfriend. That’s the best you could do for your little charade?”
I stood. I didn’t plan it. Didn’t think about it.
One second I was sitting, and the next I was on my feet.
Something in my expression must have registered because Rossi took a step back.
I felt that vein Cleo gave me shit about.
I wasn’t sure if it was about to explode but my rage level certainly indicated it was a possibility.
“Her name is Cleo,” I said. My voice was level. Controlled. “And you will not speak about her again.”
“Or what?” But there was less confidence in it now.
I reached into my briefcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Slid it across the table toward him. “Sign it.”
He looked at the paper like it might bite him. “What is it?”
“It will immediately void the contract. No penalties.”
He blinked. Picked it up. Read it. His eyes moved over the text like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“Why?” he asked finally.
“Why what?”
“Why would you let me out? Armand Bancroft doesn’t accept failure. He certainly doesn’t hand out free passes.”
“My father isn’t here,” I said. “I am.”
“This doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” I gathered my things, sliding my laptop back into my briefcase with deliberate calm. “You can’t afford this partnership. We both know it. I’m offering you a clean exit before your financial situation becomes public knowledge and damages both our reputations.”
“How generous,” he said bitterly.
“It comes with conditions.”
“Of course it does.”
I looked at him directly. “You will never do business with my family again. You won’t approach us for deals, for partnerships, for so much as a coffee meeting. You won’t speak the Bancroft name in your investor pitches or use our association to prop up your failing ventures.”
His jaw clenched.
“And if you do—if I so much as hear our name come out of your mouth in a business context—I will make you more irrelevant than you already are.” I picked up my briefcase.
“I have documentation of every questionable investment, every late payment, every loan you’ve taken against assets you’re underwater on.
I will ensure every potential investor, every business partner, every bank in Europe sees exactly how precarious your position is. Mark my words.”
He stared at me. His face had gone pale.
“Sign it,” I said again. “Or don’t. But if you don’t, I’ll tie you up in breach of contract litigation for the next five years. Your choice.”
I walked to the door.
“She must be something,” Rossi said behind me.
I paused, hand on the handle.
“The girl,” he continued. “For you to walk away from your father’s deal. For you to threaten me over her. She must be quite something.”
I looked back at him. “She is. She’s a million times the snake you crawl into bed with every night. Watch out for that one. She bites.”
The hallway was empty. Everyone seemed to have scattered. I made my way to the elevator, through the lobby, and out into the warm Roman afternoon. My driver was waiting. I got in the car and told him to take me back to the hotel.
He pulled into traffic and I sat in the back seat staring at my phone.
My father was going to lose his mind. Walking away from the Rossi deal, letting him out of the contract with no penalties—it went against everything Armand Bancroft stood for.
Never show weakness. Never let a client dictate terms. Never, ever walk away without getting something in return.
But I didn’t care. I was tired.
Tired of running my father’s errands. Tired of sacrificing my own judgment for the family name. Tired of treating every human interaction like a transaction that needed to result in a net positive.
Rossi was right about one thing. She was something. Cleo was absolutely something.
Screw the errand. Screw the client. None of it mattered.